


Even Spider-Man gets appendicitis

by carpe_noctem



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Appendicitis, Hurt Peter Parker, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Medical Examination, My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24858043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpe_noctem/pseuds/carpe_noctem
Summary: The pain had started on Friday night and steadily increased over the weekend. May had been busy with work, trying to make ends meet, so Peter had curled up in his bed with a science magazine and a heating bottle, insisting that his stomach ache stemmed from those burritos him and Ned had eaten after school.Once Monday morning rolled around, Peter crawled out of bed and made a beeline to the bathroom, where he pulled the first package of over the counter pain killers he could see out of the medical shelf. Without hesitating even a second, he took four pills, plopped them into his mouth and sank to the floor, wrapping both arms over his abdomen.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 143





	Even Spider-Man gets appendicitis

The pain had started on Friday night and steadily increased over the weekend. May had been busy with work, trying to make ends meet, so Peter had curled up in his bed with a science magazine and a heating bottle, insisting that his stomach ache stemmed from those burritos him and Ned had eaten after school. 

Once Monday morning rolled around, Peter crawled out of bed and made a beeline to the bathroom, where he pulled the first package of over the counter pain killers he could see out of the medical shelf. Without hesitating even a second he took four pills, plopped them into his mouth and sank to the floor, wrapping both arms over his abdomen. 

There was a knock on the door, followed by a concern laced voice.

“Peter?” May called. “You okay in there, sweetheart?”

He took a shuddering breath and willed the nausea he had woken up with to die down enough for him to be able to open his mouth without vomiting. 

“I’m fine, May.” He said, clutching his hand over his lips as soon as the words had left his mouth. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay home from school today?” She asked. “If you want me to, I could even take the day off and-“

“No!” Peter said, probably a little too quickly. “I swear, I’m doing a lot better today. I’m just brushing my teeth now.” 

There was a moment of silence, before he heard a quiet sigh from the other side of the door. 

“Alright,” she said, “you know you can call me at any time to get you, right?”

“Yes, May.” He emphasized both words, trying to get a little teenage moodiness into his voice. 

“Love you,” his aunt called and barely two seconds later, he heard the door to their apartment being shut and knew that May had left for work. 

He stayed seated on the cold floor for another five minutes until he was absolutely certain that last night’s dinner would stay in his stomach at least a little while longer before forcing himself to stand up and getting ready for school. 

He felt terrible for lying to May- almost as terrible as he felt because of the physical pain his stomach was causing him- but he just couldn’t afford to stay home today. Happy was picking him up after school and Mr. Stark had promised that they would work on his suit today. Peter had come up with a few rather science-fiction-like upgrade ideas that he wanted for his suit and Mr. Stark had finally agreed to look over them. 

He made it through the first three periods just fine, cowering in on himself only every so often. The pain medication seemed to be doing its job and once fourth period came around, Peter was silently cursing himself for not taking the package to school with him. 

He folded his arms on top of his desk and slowly lowered his head, wiping his sweaty forehead on his hoodie in the process. Peter closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing. One, two, three, four,-

“Mr. Parker?”

Peter jerked his head up, trying to school his face into taking on a more neutral rather than a pained expression. Mr. Greyson, his Maths teacher, had addressed him. 

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

Peter was acutely aware that the entire class was staring at him. He was shaking slightly and the nausea was making his mouth become all watery. 

“Maybe you should go see the nurse?” Mr. Greyson said, the sentence coming out like a well-meant command rather than a question. 

Peter nodded and got up, glad to get out of the classroom. Ned shot him a concerned look as he stepped into the hallway, but Peter didn’t even have it in him to fake a smile in that moment. 

Once the door closed behind him, he sprinted to the nearest bathroom and emptied the contents of his stomach into the next best toilet. Peter was shivering all over, his legs were trembling and his eyes were burning. He clutched his hand to his lower stomach as another wave of pain hit him. The right side of his lower stomach felt like he was repeatedly getting stabbed by knives. 

He briefly played with the idea of calling May or even Mr. Stark, but tossed the thought almost immediately. He didn’t want May to miss work because of him and he certainly wasn’t going to call Iron Man because of a little stomach ache. 

The best thing he could do, he decided, was to actually go to the school nurse after all and ask for more pain killers. 

“What can I do for you, sweetie?” The elderly woman asked after she had ordered him to lie down. 

“Umm,” Peter started, “my stomach has been feeling weird all day.” 

“Does it hurt anywhere?”

Peter nodded, using a shaking hand to point to his right side. 

“And have you had to throw up?” She asked, taking in his ragged breathing and pale face. 

Another nod and a few questions later, the woman’s hand reached for the phone sitting on the desk next to them. 

“Peter, I’m going to call you an ambulance.” She said and raised a hand when Peter opened his mouth. “The condition you’re in is worrisome and I don’t want to risk anything.” 

“But I-“ have enhanced healing, he wanted to say, before cutting himself off. 

“There’s no need to be afraid, I’ll have the secretary call your parents and tell them what’s going on.” 

Peter tried to swallow the lump in his throat that had formed at the mention of his parents and stayed quiet while the nurse made the call. 

He didn’t say a word until he was at the nearest hospital, alone in an examination room with a middle aged female doctor. He vehemently refused to have his blood drawn (what if someone noticed that his DNA was different than the one of a regular human?) but allowed the doctor to examine his stomach and do an ultrasound. 

“Listen Peter...” She sighed, already sounding exasperated after their previous discussion about Peter refusing to let her or a nurse draw some blood. “You have appendicitis and judging by the intensity of your symptoms and your fever, your appendix seems to be highly infected. The sooner we get it out, the better.” 

Peter rubbed his eyes as he processed her words. Surgery. They wanted to cut him open. 

“No!” he said, completely aware that he sounded like a scared five year old. The doctor seemed to think the same thing.

“Honey, you’ll be sleeping the entire time. It won’t hurt.”

“Yes it will,” Peter thought. He had never had to get surgery before, but he knew that no matter what medication they would give him, his metabolism would burn right through it. 

“I will get Nurse Stephanie to prepare you for the surgery and bring you down to the OR right after.” 

She was already walking towards the door when Peter spoke up again. 

“Can we please wait for my aunt to get here?” Peter asked, breathing heavily- this time not only because of the excruciating pain he was in, but also because he was starting to grow anxious. 

The doctor ignored him for a moment, choosing to call for a nurse standing near the door first, before turning around to face Peter again. 

“The longer we wait, the more likely your appendix is to burst.” She said very slowly, as if she had to explain the concept of appendicitis to a mentally disabled person. “Your aunt has been called, but it will take her at least twenty-five minutes to get here.” 

They were joined by a red haired young woman, who was approaching Peter with a hospital gown and other medical supplies, and a broadly built male nurse, who didn’t fully enter the room and instead stood by the door.

Peter felt the first nurse take his arm in one hand, while holding a needle in the other. Panicking, he ripped his hand out of her grip, causing her to stumble back a few steps.

“Sorry!” He exclaimed, getting off the examination table. “But I have to get out.” 

He had both of his arms wrapped around his middle and was barely able to walk upright. Strong hands gripped his upper arms, forcing him onto the table again. The male nurse, backed up by the two women in the room, was towering over him. 

Under normal circumstances, Peter could have easily freed himself. Now, pain was consuming his entire body, every movement causing him to hunch over. Multiple pairs of hands were touching him and Peter felt the sting of a needle piercing through his skin. 

“Let me call someone, please!” 

He needed to call Mr. Stark. The thought of getting his appendix cut out of his body without efficient anesthesia made him want to vomit again and without his mentor’s help, Peter saw no way of getting out of this situation that didn’t include him revealing his identity. 

“Please... my boss, I have to....” he whispered, choking slightly on his own sobs. Nobody answered.

“I need to call my dad!” 

The room was quiet for a moment, except for Peter’s ragged breathing. 

“Please,” Peter cried, “he’ll be able to get here really fast.” 

The doctor without a doubt thought that Peter was stalling, but gestured for her colleagues to let go of him nonetheless.  
She pressed a phone into Peter’s and looked at him expectantly. 

“Can you, uhmm...” Peter mumbled. “Can you leave the room... please?”

His shoulders sagged in relief as he watched the three medical professionals step outside the door, each of them sending Peter a look somewhere between annoyance and genuine concern as they left.  
Peter only had to wait two rings before Mr. Stark answered his phone. 

“Hey kid,-“ 

“Mr. Stark,” he whispered, not wasting any time, “I’m at a hospital, they want to take out my appendix, but with my enhanced metabolism I’m not sure if the anesthesia would work and they held me down and I’m so sorry for calling but May can’t come here fast enough and they don’t want to wait for her and-“ 

“Peter!” This time it was Mr. Stark who cut him off. “Calm down. What hospital are you at?”

“I don’t know,” Peter said and was mortified when a sob escaped him, “I’m scared Mr. Stark. What if I wake up during the surgery? What if I feel everything?” 

His mentor must have picked up on his distress, as his voice immediately softened. 

“I’m not going to let that happen, Pete. I’ll come and get you,” he said, “can you ask a nurse at which hospital you’re at?” 

Peter looked outside the glass window of the exam room and saw that only his doctor was standing in front of his room now, rolling her eyes every few seconds. Upon seeing Peter look at her, she reentered the room, causing Peter to flinch slightly.

“My doctor is here now,” Peter said anxiously. 

“Okay Pete,” Mr. Stark reassured him, “take a deep breath, I’m already calling my suit. Put me on speaker.” 

Peter did as he was told and felt more tears roll down his cheeks when his doctor took the phone out of his hands again. 

“This is Tony Stark speaking. Who am I talking to?”

The doctor’s jaw dropped momentarily when Tony introduced himself, but she caught herself pretty quickly.

“I’m Doctor Isabelle Marin.” She said. “Your son has a serious case of appendicitis and requires immediate surgery,” 

Peter’s felt his face heating up. He had told her that he ‘needed to call his dad’. She had just referred to Peter as Mr. Stark’s son. 

“I understand that and I assure you that Peter will receive the best medical care available,” Mr. Stark said sharply, “but I would prefer it if my own medical team would be the one to take care of him.”

“Sir, the medical care we can offer at our hospital is more than sufficient to treat appendicitis. It’s a routine surgery that-“ 

“Nobody lays their hands on my son until I get there!” 

To Peter’s surprise, his mentor’s voice seemed to be shaking, his breath sounding almost as heavy as Peter’s. The doctor continued rambling, but Peter wasn’t listening anymore, his mind still working on processing the man’s last sentence.

Eventually, Dr. Marin gave up. The phone call ended and the doctor started pacing around in the room until Mr. Stark finally burst through the door. He spotted Peter curled up on the examination table, hair damp with sweat and pale as a ghost. 

“Hey buddy,” he said, slowly turning Peter onto his back again, “ready to get out of here?” 

When Peter nodded, Tony grabbed both of his arms and steadied him as he got off the table and his trembling legs carried him to the elevator Mr. Stark was leading him to. Dr. Marin was stammering something about paperwork as they walked past her, only prompting Tony to say something about lawyers. Peter was too focused on not passing out from the pain to really follow the short conversation. 

“I thought we were getting out of here,” Peter mumbled hazily when he noticed that the elevator was moving upwards instead of downwards. 

“We are,” Tony said. He moved his hand to ruffle Peter’s hair but thought better of it when Peter almost lost balance without the support of both of his arms. 

They stepped onto the roof of the hospital and Peter almost smiled at sight of the shining gold and red colors of the Iron Man suit waiting for them. 

“That’ll be faster than Happy driving,” Mr. Stark half-heartedly joked as he stepped into the suit as quickly as possible, causing Peter’s knees to give out.

Before he could hit the ground, strong metal arms wrapped around him and picked him up bridal style. Peter pressed his face into the man’s chest, trying to hide the blush that was once again spreading across his cheeks. 

He shut his eyes as the intensity of the stabbing pain in his stomach increased and swallowed hard when he felt vomit shooting up his throat. He coughed a couple of times when the acid burned his mouth, but kept his lips pressed together. 

“Just let it out, Pete.” Mr. Stark said and readjusted his grip on Peter a little, turning him onto his side. 

Peter shook his head determinately. He was not going to throw up in his mentor’s arms, high up in the sky. With every cough his insides seemed to rip apart and the burning sensation increased.

“You’re going to choke,” 

Peter shook his head again, tears rolling down his face. Another wave of nausea hit him and this time, Peter couldn’t hold it in anymore. The vomit mixed with his tears and sweat as it left his mouth and Peter could do nothing except for shaking uncontrollably in Mr. Stark’s arms. 

Barely five minutes later, they landed on firm ground. Peter’s eyes snapped open when he felt himself being lifted onto a gurney. His eyes scanned his surroundings and locked onto Mr. Stark who was exchanging hectic words with a very concerned looking Dr. Bruce Banner. 

His gurney was rolled into a sterile looking room in the Medbay that had an operating table in its center. Peter was getting dizzy with anxiety. 

“Everything’ll be fine,” Mr. Stark tried to reassure him as Bruce and a few other members of the medical team prepared for the surgery. His mentor held his hand and cradled his fingers through Peter’s hair, easing his anxiety just a tiny little bit, before he was being lifted onto the table in the middle of the room. 

“Tony,” Bruce said, “you need to leave now.”

Mr. Stark took a step back, only to find Peter holding onto his hand even stronger.

“They’ve got this, Pete.” 

He tried to put on a brave face for the teenager lying on the table, all glassy eyed with vomit dripping down his chin and hoodie. 

“He’s right, Peter.” Bruce intertwined. He was feeling a lot of empathy for the boy, but he also knew that they had to act fast. “The anesthesia will work, you have to trust us- and you have to let go of Tony’s hand.” 

Peter loosened his grip and felt a sense of loss when Mr. Stark pulled his hand away. He closed his eyes and felt a kiss being pressed into his hair. When he opened his eyes again, Mr. Stark was already walking out of the door. 

“Let’s get this thing out of you, shall we?” 

A mask was placed over his mouth and nose and a moment later, everything went black. 

Peter woke up in a clean, white hospital gown. Someone had wiped the vomit and sweat off of his face and an IV had been placed in the back of his hand. The nausea that had plagued him for the past three days was gone and the pain in his stomach was reduced to a dull ache. He stirred a little in his bed before attempting to sit up. 

“Woah,” a voice to his right said, “not so fast there, buddy.”

Peter rubbed his eyes before looking around in the room. There was one other bed standing to his left and in it slept May, who looked just as exhausted as Peter felt. 

“You had her worried half to death,” Mr. Stark said quietly, “all of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said. He meant it.

“You don’t need to apologize,” his mentor said, “but the next time you feel sick, tell us before it gets out of hand.”

Peter nodded and kept his eyes focused on his lap when a few tears escaped them. Mr. Stark stood up and jerked his head, indicating for Peter to make space for him to sit on the bed. He slung one arm around Peter and leaned back, pulling him close. 

“Does anything hurt?” He asked, “I could get Bruce to give you some stronger meds.”

“M’ fine,” Peter mumbled, fighting to keep his eyes open, “What’s the time?”

“It’s three am.” The older man said. “You suppose you can get a little more shut eye? Give that enhanced healing of yours time to work its magic?”

“Apparently it’s not as strong as I thought it was,” Peter commented drily.

“Well,” Mr. Stark said softly, “even Spider-Man can get appendicitis.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, thank you so much for reading. This is my first fanfic for this fandom and my first one here on AO3, so I hope you enjoyed it!  
> English isn't my first language so I'm sorry if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes.  
> I hope you all have a great day, if you have another minute, please tell me what you think in the comments! :)


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